Day 24: A fustercluck of monumental proportions.
Little Cottonwood Canyon road closed last night at 9 p.m., scheduled to reopen at 8:15-8:30 this morning. I earlier updated yesterday's thread with today's early morning predicament:
I had to think quickly. I called Tele Jon and arranged for a pickup at 7:45 a.m. at my house. I grabbed my Endorphins and swapped out the Vibram AT soles for alpine DIN soles. Christy Sports on Wasatch opened at 8, and along with my next door neighbor and good friend, Pat, to whom I'd offered a lift ticket as a Christmas present, and Tele Jon, I was there right at opening picking up a pair of demo Rossignol S7s. We then went over to Einstein Bagel to grab a quick breakfast to go.
That quickly turned into a relaxing breakfast on site, for while we were in line the word spread that an avalanche slid across Little Cottonwood Road, burying the road in debris. New estimated opening: 9:30 a.m. While there, the phone rang. The Kid. He's home. I'm ready to kill him, but for the moment I have other priorities. I walk back over to Christy's and the kind souls there are good enough to take pity on me and take the S7s back and refund my charges. Thank you, folks! You're good ones!
We went back to the house. I grabbed my truck with the skis in them and Pat joined me. Tele Jon followed us up to get in line for the road opening. We saw the backup on the hill leading up from the BCC 7-Eleven, so I took the back roads I know and came out at the La Caille sign at 9:15 a.m. to see traffic flowing slowly but steadily up the hill. Concluding that the road must have opened, we abandoned our backroad approach and joined the flow toward the canyon. About 200 yards before the park and ride lot at the mouth, however, we came to a stop. We sat there. We milled about. By 10 a.m. we got word that the canyon had reopened and started moving forward...only to see the Sheriff's deputy start turning folks around. We were three cars before the checkpoint and I walked over to the deputy. Now the Town of Alta would remain under Interlodge until noon, and the road would remain closed until then.
Time for Plan B.
We drove back to the house, grabbed my PCMR pass and a Friends and Family Ticket for Pat, and motored up I-80 through Parley's Canyon, convinced that we'd be skiing by 11:00. We were relieved to see empty slopes, and entered the underground parking lot. Despite no "Lot Full" sign we nonetheless spent 10 minutes looking for a space. I finally spotted one. I turned around, confident that the aisle I was on was a dead-end and I was blocking it. By the time I got turned around, however, it was obvious that there was another route to that space, and it had just been occupied. Tail between my legs, I resorted to parking in the mud at the far end of the furthest outdoor lot, seemingly halfway to Kimball Jct. I'm convinced that Sundance attendees were using PCMR's parking lot and not skiing. I have no other explanation for why parking was so crowded, yet the slopes had plenty of elbow room.
It was at that moment that I realized that I had two pair of skis with AT bindings in the truck, and a pair of boots mounted with DIN soles for the demos I thought that I'd have to ski. That left about 5 mm of play in the toe piece. No biggie, I'd fix them at the lift. We walked over to the First Time lift, but the Philipps bit was too small to drive what was clearly a stiff screw. Damn! We rode up the First Time chair to reach the resort center, and I skied down as gingerly as possible. I couldn't even carve a turn -- I'd roll my knees and only the boot would rock up, failing to engage the edge on such low angle terrain. We went into the repair shop, where another good man tried to heat the toepiece to loosen the screw that adjusts the toe height...but we couldn't get the screw on either toepiece to budge at all!
I sent Pat up PayDay to take a run while I walked all the way back to the truck to grab the other skis, which are mounted with Fritschis instead of Silvrettas. I walked back to First Time, and this toepiece I was able to adjust, closing the gap. I was back in action...until Pat called me while I waited for her at Crescent, only to find out that she ended up at the bottom of the long Town Lift several miles from where I was standing.
Honestly, this was like one of those nightmares where you're trying throughout the dream to get to a destination, yet you can never get there.
It was just after noon when Pat emerged from the Town Lift, and we were finally starting our day.
My goal was to head to Jupiter as quickly as possible. We sped down Single Jack through cut-up fluff that just gave way as you smashed through it, and up Thaynes to reach the Jupiter access road. We arrived to find a deserted chair and headed up, finding things already more cut up than I'd hoped for, yet soft and fluffy.
We got off Jupiter and were buckling our boots when a guy standing there by himself asked how well we knew the mountain. I told him that we were heading for Portugese Gap and invited him to join us if he so desired. The top was soft avalanche debris that quickly gave way to soft, deep fluff as we moved west into the trees toward Rhino. Popping out with huge smiles all the way around, we finally got around to introductions. His name was Clay, and he was visiting from SoCal. Clay would spend the next three hours charging with us around the hill.
And hard charge we did. We pounded. Not a liftline anywhere, we were able to rack up in four hours as much vert as our legs could handle. We skied a second run in Jupe down Silver Cliffs, finding the crux hairy but easily negotiable, with an absolutely delightful rhythm for warp speed through trees lower down. We also managed to time fairly well the opening of the Pinyon Ridge bootpack from McConkey's up Jupiter Peak.
I turned to Pat.
I asked, "Should we hoof it?"
I got a nod of approval from Pat. I got a silent expression of bewilderment from Clay. What had he gotten himself into?
We started hiking. We had no intention of summiting, only going as far as necessary for a clean line, which we found in O-Zone.
It was fluffy, light and thigh deep. After the first few turns the tracks scattered, yielding absolute untracked between the trees on the lower half.
While we were hiking Pinyon Ridge we looked across the way at Puma Bowl, and realized that it had barely been touched.
That made the decision for the next run easy. We rode Pioneer and went out the Powder Ridge gate, traversing west until we found a clean line. I netted two face shots in the first four turns!
I was anxious to score more fresh and show my companions some other parts of the mountain, so we headed for Motherlode, where beginning at 3 p.m. we landed untracked lines for four or five laps through the aspen trees between the marked runs. The runs themselves, like Glory Hole and Sunnyside had been tracked out completely, but the aspens had only a few tracks amongst acres and acres that were otherwise untouched. We were feeling The Force, speeding through the trees fully expecting lines to open, which they did one after another as if by magic.
Clay had to split by 3:30. Pat and I continued right up to the closing bell, wrapping the day up in the shadows of the aspens gladed to skier's left of Silver Skis. A great day, indeed! Especially after such an inauspicious start. Pat saw PCMR in a whole new light, and Clay reports that they've got a new customer.
And I'm spent, which isn't good for Alta should tomorrow open a lot of their terrain that's been closed for days. I'll be skiing with some folks who are most assuredly going to kick my arse, and starting off the day with rubber legs tomorrow won't be good. Not good at all.
Now I have to deal with The Kid...
Little Cottonwood Canyon road closed last night at 9 p.m., scheduled to reopen at 8:15-8:30 this morning. I earlier updated yesterday's thread with today's early morning predicament:
I":37cbqzff said:
I had to think quickly. I called Tele Jon and arranged for a pickup at 7:45 a.m. at my house. I grabbed my Endorphins and swapped out the Vibram AT soles for alpine DIN soles. Christy Sports on Wasatch opened at 8, and along with my next door neighbor and good friend, Pat, to whom I'd offered a lift ticket as a Christmas present, and Tele Jon, I was there right at opening picking up a pair of demo Rossignol S7s. We then went over to Einstein Bagel to grab a quick breakfast to go.
That quickly turned into a relaxing breakfast on site, for while we were in line the word spread that an avalanche slid across Little Cottonwood Road, burying the road in debris. New estimated opening: 9:30 a.m. While there, the phone rang. The Kid. He's home. I'm ready to kill him, but for the moment I have other priorities. I walk back over to Christy's and the kind souls there are good enough to take pity on me and take the S7s back and refund my charges. Thank you, folks! You're good ones!
We went back to the house. I grabbed my truck with the skis in them and Pat joined me. Tele Jon followed us up to get in line for the road opening. We saw the backup on the hill leading up from the BCC 7-Eleven, so I took the back roads I know and came out at the La Caille sign at 9:15 a.m. to see traffic flowing slowly but steadily up the hill. Concluding that the road must have opened, we abandoned our backroad approach and joined the flow toward the canyon. About 200 yards before the park and ride lot at the mouth, however, we came to a stop. We sat there. We milled about. By 10 a.m. we got word that the canyon had reopened and started moving forward...only to see the Sheriff's deputy start turning folks around. We were three cars before the checkpoint and I walked over to the deputy. Now the Town of Alta would remain under Interlodge until noon, and the road would remain closed until then.
Time for Plan B.
We drove back to the house, grabbed my PCMR pass and a Friends and Family Ticket for Pat, and motored up I-80 through Parley's Canyon, convinced that we'd be skiing by 11:00. We were relieved to see empty slopes, and entered the underground parking lot. Despite no "Lot Full" sign we nonetheless spent 10 minutes looking for a space. I finally spotted one. I turned around, confident that the aisle I was on was a dead-end and I was blocking it. By the time I got turned around, however, it was obvious that there was another route to that space, and it had just been occupied. Tail between my legs, I resorted to parking in the mud at the far end of the furthest outdoor lot, seemingly halfway to Kimball Jct. I'm convinced that Sundance attendees were using PCMR's parking lot and not skiing. I have no other explanation for why parking was so crowded, yet the slopes had plenty of elbow room.
It was at that moment that I realized that I had two pair of skis with AT bindings in the truck, and a pair of boots mounted with DIN soles for the demos I thought that I'd have to ski. That left about 5 mm of play in the toe piece. No biggie, I'd fix them at the lift. We walked over to the First Time lift, but the Philipps bit was too small to drive what was clearly a stiff screw. Damn! We rode up the First Time chair to reach the resort center, and I skied down as gingerly as possible. I couldn't even carve a turn -- I'd roll my knees and only the boot would rock up, failing to engage the edge on such low angle terrain. We went into the repair shop, where another good man tried to heat the toepiece to loosen the screw that adjusts the toe height...but we couldn't get the screw on either toepiece to budge at all!
I sent Pat up PayDay to take a run while I walked all the way back to the truck to grab the other skis, which are mounted with Fritschis instead of Silvrettas. I walked back to First Time, and this toepiece I was able to adjust, closing the gap. I was back in action...until Pat called me while I waited for her at Crescent, only to find out that she ended up at the bottom of the long Town Lift several miles from where I was standing.
Honestly, this was like one of those nightmares where you're trying throughout the dream to get to a destination, yet you can never get there.
It was just after noon when Pat emerged from the Town Lift, and we were finally starting our day.
My goal was to head to Jupiter as quickly as possible. We sped down Single Jack through cut-up fluff that just gave way as you smashed through it, and up Thaynes to reach the Jupiter access road. We arrived to find a deserted chair and headed up, finding things already more cut up than I'd hoped for, yet soft and fluffy.
We got off Jupiter and were buckling our boots when a guy standing there by himself asked how well we knew the mountain. I told him that we were heading for Portugese Gap and invited him to join us if he so desired. The top was soft avalanche debris that quickly gave way to soft, deep fluff as we moved west into the trees toward Rhino. Popping out with huge smiles all the way around, we finally got around to introductions. His name was Clay, and he was visiting from SoCal. Clay would spend the next three hours charging with us around the hill.
And hard charge we did. We pounded. Not a liftline anywhere, we were able to rack up in four hours as much vert as our legs could handle. We skied a second run in Jupe down Silver Cliffs, finding the crux hairy but easily negotiable, with an absolutely delightful rhythm for warp speed through trees lower down. We also managed to time fairly well the opening of the Pinyon Ridge bootpack from McConkey's up Jupiter Peak.
I turned to Pat.
I asked, "Should we hoof it?"
I got a nod of approval from Pat. I got a silent expression of bewilderment from Clay. What had he gotten himself into?
We started hiking. We had no intention of summiting, only going as far as necessary for a clean line, which we found in O-Zone.
It was fluffy, light and thigh deep. After the first few turns the tracks scattered, yielding absolute untracked between the trees on the lower half.
While we were hiking Pinyon Ridge we looked across the way at Puma Bowl, and realized that it had barely been touched.
That made the decision for the next run easy. We rode Pioneer and went out the Powder Ridge gate, traversing west until we found a clean line. I netted two face shots in the first four turns!
I was anxious to score more fresh and show my companions some other parts of the mountain, so we headed for Motherlode, where beginning at 3 p.m. we landed untracked lines for four or five laps through the aspen trees between the marked runs. The runs themselves, like Glory Hole and Sunnyside had been tracked out completely, but the aspens had only a few tracks amongst acres and acres that were otherwise untouched. We were feeling The Force, speeding through the trees fully expecting lines to open, which they did one after another as if by magic.
Clay had to split by 3:30. Pat and I continued right up to the closing bell, wrapping the day up in the shadows of the aspens gladed to skier's left of Silver Skis. A great day, indeed! Especially after such an inauspicious start. Pat saw PCMR in a whole new light, and Clay reports that they've got a new customer.
And I'm spent, which isn't good for Alta should tomorrow open a lot of their terrain that's been closed for days. I'll be skiing with some folks who are most assuredly going to kick my arse, and starting off the day with rubber legs tomorrow won't be good. Not good at all.
Now I have to deal with The Kid...
